Studying the GPS directions

Obviously, he and I have a slight communication problem. When I wrote “Travel” on my wish list, it didn’t mean one of those little black boxes that talk to you and tell you where to go.

A year or so ago, I decided it was time to modern up and get one of those GPS things. The young man at Staples had been well taught by his mama. Even after an hour of my asking questions and making sure the GPS I was interested in really could direct me over the Atlanta freeway to the Georgian Hotel, he never once lost his temper.

He did get sort of glassy eyed, which was probably due to allergies.

It was a good thing the store has a tolerant return policy. The GPS I purchased, after much consideration, went back the next morning.

I reasoned that if I was driving and needed to watch out for traffic, road signs and such, there was no way I could check out what was going on with that GPS.

As far as I was concerned, it was back to maps and “turn right at the red pick up truck” kind of directions.

Daughter Tamela uses a GPS and I have been sitting right next to her when “the voice” says something like “Re compute” or “Take the first right and then the next first right.”

Why doesn’t it say “Turn around dummy as soon as you can. You missed the road”.

I love maps. They come in all sizes and colors so you can see there are wonderful scenics waiting for you. The down side is that they are mostly outdated. Roads appear that aren’t on the map and engineers have a peculiar sense of what is North and South compared to East and West.

My new gift of a GPS stayed in its pristine wrapping and moved from my car to the house and back again. Talk about procrastination. I’d read the instructions. Later.

Then, wouldn’t you know, I needed to go to a shop in Charleston that is in one of those strip malls that are miserable to find.

With great trepidation, I unwrapped the box, managed to get the pieces of my GPS together and called son Boo, who talked me through setting it up. After all, he was the one who had advised Santa and started this adventure.

The female voice, I promptly named Miss Pris, was plain aggravating until we got the point where we needed her directions and then, it was sweet.

Now, if she can be programmed to figure out how to get to that restaurant in Mount Pleasant that I can’t remember the name of or exactly where it is, that would be grand.